


like gold (when you see me)

by zayheathers



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amilyn Holdo is Weird and i love her, F/F, Force-Sensitive Phasma, Phasma Jinn, Rarepair, also post-redemption phasma, but they still somehow destroyed the exegol plan also?, somehow they won the war after amilyn flew through that star destroyer, the pacing of the beginning is Very Bad and i apologise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:14:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27434890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zayheathers/pseuds/zayheathers
Summary: “We both know the truth,” Finn had said, confident. “We both know you’re scared, scared as hell. We both know that when I put a gun to your head, you shut down Starkiller shields.”There’d been a fierce fire in his eyes, an arrogant charisma of someone who knew they spoke the truth. She’d had no choice but to listen. That’s what she was made to do, after all.“Why would you do that if you believed in the Order? You’re not willing to die for them. And I’m sure as hell none of these guys,” he gestured to the troops behind them, “would either. But you’re afraid of what they’d do if they found out you betrayed them. What your masters would say. What they would do.”He closed his eyes. Opened them to confront her. “But you don’t have to fear. You stay here, you die. You wanna kill me? They’ll kill you when they find out what you did. And if you let me kill you, you’ll die in fear. Is that what you want?I’m not forgiving you for what you did, Phasma. For what you’ve done. But I’m giving you the chance I think you need. A chance to be free.”OR: Phasma defects out of self-preservation, is monumental to the winning of the war, and finds her place in the Resistance.
Relationships: Amilyn Holdo & Leia Organa, Amilyn Holdo/Phasma, background Finn/Poe
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter One

Amilyn Holdo has always answered Leia Organa’s call. It is part of the reason she’s a Vice Admiral today, part of the reason they know each other so well. And when Leia called once more, for all available to help their regrouping after they’d just barely won the war a few months back, of course she answered.

She’d just arrived at their base on Ajan Kloss, and sought out Leia upon landing. They’re talking about these past months, and Leia’s updating her on all Amilyn has missed in her recovery period. Among the most important events—other than their victory itself—a certain ex-First Order captain, who renounced the regime and defected during this time.

“So why’d she turn to our side?” Amilyn asks, curiosity always getting the better of her. “Self-preservation?” 

“Isn’t it always?” Leia says with a raise of her brown.

Amilyn huffs a laugh at the other woman’s dry tone, knowing full well she speaks the truth. “Point taken. 

From even before the First Order, Stormtroopers have always had a problem with their soldiers rebelling, and almost always because they feared execution, death. Free spirits forced to conform, forced to hide from their solar systems. Except for perhaps one instance. “Although, there’s always an exception, I’d say.”

Leia smiles at the thought, thinking of the old friend Amilyn’s referring to. “Yes. Iden, I remember. She was the exception to most rules, frankly.”

“Another point taken,” she laughs again, shaking away the first war, shedding way for a future. “Is it still self-preservation? For Phasma, I mean.”

A frown finds its way onto Leia’s face as she thinks, and somehow, they come to a stop in the middle of the base hallway. “I think it wasn’t always about keeping soley  _ herself _ alive. She cared about those troopers she brought to us, even if she couldn’t admit it. And now…” Leia sighs, closing her eyes briefly. “I don’t know, Amilyn. It’s always so hard to tell!”

“Hmm. I mean, she joined us, what, five months ago?”

“Almost six.”

“And she and her band of troopers most likely played a  _ huge  _ part in winning the war, especially with all the intel she provided herself about Exegol.”

“Sure.”

“And she has had multiple opportunities to turn back to the First Order; I know that you’ve left them open for her.” 

“Yes.”

“Then I think you should give her your full trust.”

Leia sighs again, reminding Amilyn that they’re really, maybe getting too old for this. “It isn’t that I don’t trust her, it’s that I’m not sure what to do with her. Of course, there will always be a place for her with the Resistance, you’re right, after everything she’s done. But she’s just so damn stoic I never know what she’s thinking.”

“Have you asked her?” Amilyn says, in her colourful monotone, and they continue walking, heading towards the canteen.

Leia nods her head. “And she always gives the same damn answer: ‘wherever you need me, General.’ What the hell.”

She considers this, and finds herself even more intrigued by the ex-captain that before. “Interesting.” Leia looks up at her and snorts to herself. “What?”

“I know that face.”

She smiles, confused. “What face?”

“ _ That  _ face. The one that tells me you’re going to figure everything out.”

“I don’t have a ‘face.’”

“Yes you do and you’re making it right now! Though,” she says, thinking, “I can’t say I blame you. Phasma certainly is quite a puzzle. Not one  _ I  _ could figure out, I don’t have the right tools, but maybe someone a little stranger, a little more stubborn—”

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing, Leia Organa. And by the way, General, you are plenty stubborn.”

“I’m not hearing a ‘no.’”

“No, you are not.” 

By this time, they’ve made their way to the canteen. The solid, wooden doors barely hold all the noise inward, bursting at the seams, and Amilyn could swear they beat to some underlying rhythm of unintelligible chatter. Maybe it’s universal, intergalactic. She wishes she knew how to dance to it.

They push them open together, and the room doesn’t fall silent. Instead, cheers and yells of greeting meet her eyes, a resistance happy to see their general. There’s joy filling every corner of the room, a joy that had been missing for such a time, replaced instead by war. “I’m afraid I have some things to discuss with Connix and Shriv,” Leia is saying. “You’ll be fine on your own?”

“Always,” she answers. “I’ll see you, Leia.”

“Please do. Goodness knows I need a friend like you in a time like this.” She walks away with a final squeeze of her arm, leaving Amilyn alone to entertain herself, which she doesn't mind at all. She enjoys being left to her own devices. It allows her to people-watch and observe the way they weave in and out of each other like constellations in the dark skies.

She takes a table closer to the back of the room, and sits, deciding only to drink her tea and to take food at a later date. People pass her by, and she makes conversation as they do, but they never stop. She doesn’t mind.

“Vice Admiral,” a voice calls, and she knows that fly-boy anywhere.

Amilyn smiles around her teacup, amused but not overtly; she knows what he’s up to, no doubt. “Commander Dameron.”

“Say,” he says, coming around to sit at her table, looking for all the world like a boy wanting to know if his mother had been bragging about him, “what were you and the general talkin’ about?”

“You’re fishing, Black Leader.” 

“Yeah,” he says with confidence, “I am.”

Subtly, she rolls her eyes. Poe and Amilyn had gotten better acquainted after that whole drama with her leadership, and after her stunt with the Ninka (which she’d surprisingly survived), he’d come to respect her a little more. And Amilyn can respect him too. Doesn’t mean she has to like him  _ all  _ the time.

“We were talking about a certain ex-trooper, if you really have to know.”

Finn, who is, as always, attached to Poe’s hip, gasps, eyes wide and curious. She hopes he never loses that. “Me?”

“Nah, buddy, probably not.” Poe gives him an affectionate pat on the arm. Something very similar to Leia, she notes.

“They were talking about Phasma,” Rey says in her strong, brave voice, suddenly right next to her, and Chewie lurks behind. Strange, Amilyn hadn’t heard her at all, but maybe it’s the Jedi feet. “Right?”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“What,” Poe looks at her, suspicious, “you feel that with your Jedi-powers too?”

Rey grins, cheeky and sincere all at once. “I’m a good listener.”

“You are,” Finn says, sweet and genuine, not getting her joke. Amilyn finds it adorable, but keeps her warm smile to herself.

The three of them grin at each other, before breaking away still with happy looks on their faces. Amilyn is reminded of herself and Leia in their youth, so connected in thought and lives, but always a strange dichotomy of being different people. 

“So, anyway,” Poe says, pulling Rey and Finn to sit down besides him, “Phasma, huh? She’s pretty strange, I’ll give her that. We’ve known her for half a year and backstory’s still a whole big mystery. ‘Course, you an’ the general probably know most of it already, after Moradi’s whole secret mission thing.”

“It wasn’t really a secret,” Amylin reminds him. 

“It was to me!”

“Honestly, I prefer the other ex-troopers,” says Finn, looking over at the group who sit a few tables away from them, smiling and having fun in a way she’s sure they were unable to on Starkiller. “Less baggage.”

Poe laughs. “Doesn’t everyone?”

He shrugs. “Yeah I guess you’re right. What ‘bout you, Rey? What’s your opinion?”

“I feel a pull from her,” Rey is saying, carefully. “Like the force runs through her, but it’s… muted, somehow.”

“Like Ren?”

“No, Finn, not like that. It’s more like… I know that she’s sensitive to the force, but I’m not sure  _ she  _ knows. Or it’s a suppressed energy lurking beneath the surface.” Phasma? Force-sensitive? Amilyn supposes that's not quite implausible, but she wonders how long Rey has known, if Leia has been made aware. 

“Leia knows too,” Rey says, and Amilyn would almost think she was reading her mind if she didn’t know what that felt like. “She feels it, the energy she radiates.”

“Are you planning on doing anything about it?” Finn asks, intrigued and a little bit apprehensive. She’s sure he wouldn’t want Phasma to join his own lessons with Rey and Luke.

“Maybe.”

* * *

Amilyn finds out the plan when she talks to Leia, much later in the day. They sit in her private quarters, drinking cups of Gatalentan tea Amilyn had brought herself.

“You really don’t let up, do you,” Leia says when she asks, a teasing smile on her face. Amilyn grins in response. 

“I’m just curious, Leia.” She nods in agreement and they both laugh.

“Rey is right, though,” she admits once she takes another sip of her tea. Already, her tea bag has been taken out, being allowed to steep for only a minute or two. Amilyn herself leaves it in for at least five minutes. “She is force sensitive. Both Luke and I felt it too.”

“What are you going to do about it? Train her?” Amilyn asks.

“Ultimately that’s up to her, I suppose. If she wants to be trained or not. No doubt she’s seen the effect the force can have on a person, dark or light. The mental strain alone…”

“I haven’t spent much time with her,” Leia continues, after her thought seemed to have trailed off, or she had thought it would be better to leave it. “I’m not sure how an offer to teach her would be received.”

“Perhaps someone should get to know her.” Amilyn offers, because she knows Leia read between the lines. Knows that the suggestion is more than that, more than a suggestion: it’s Amilyn offering. “I’ve determined that she doesn’t exactly have many  _ friends _ .”

Leia stops, looking at her closely, before her face breaks into a smile. “You’re less than subtle, you know that, Vice Admiral?”

“Of course,” she answers. “‘Obvious’ is my middle name.” 

The next day, however, talk of Phasma and force-sensitivity are far from her mind. It had occurred to her, as she lay in bed and watched the trees breeze through the stars, that Ajan Kloss is quite a beautiful planet. She guesses having the looming threat of war dissipate clears the grey-tinted glasses.

Then again, grey-tinted glasses are also quite beautiful. In a terribly tragic sort of way. 

Amilyn had decided, last night, that she would take a walk first thing in the morning. And it really is a lovely morning. She enjoys the feeling of the sky on her face, and it almost feels as if the sun is blessing her. 

It’s quite early too. Early enough Amilyn doesn’t need to worry about anyone ruining her spirituality. Usually.

“Vice Admiral Holdo,” a young woman calls behind her. Oh, those jedi feet.

She turns and isn’t surprised to find herself face to face with Rey (Skywalker), her face at peace, and her hair a mess. Amilyn likes the look of her. “Hello, Rey.”

“May I walk with you? There aren’t a lot of people awake right now. I guess it’s too early.”

Amilyn nods, letting Rey fall into step with her. After that, she mostly ignores her. Not on purpose, of course, but the world is just so beautiful she can’t help but be distracted. As they walk, she trails over the leaves with her fingers, allows them to bend and jump in retaliation. She thinks again of the stars, how they fly forwards and back just as the leaves flow.

She turns to Rey. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

Rey looks at her, a little disoriented. “You aren’t talking much yourself.”

“Oh, no,” Amilyn says, quick to fix what could be a misunderstanding. “I’m not saying it like it’s a bad thing, Rey. Most people force conversation with me. It gets a little boring, after a while, when all people want to do is make you talk and not actually hear what you want to say.”

“Oh. I… suppose,” she says, with a tilt of her head. “Do you want to make conversation now?”

“Depends on the topic.” Only once she answers does Amilyn realise she actually  _ would _ like to talk. Never let it be said that it’s ever too late. “What about your training? I heard it starts quite early.”

“Oh, yes,” Rey says, pleased to have something to talk about. “But Master Luke says he needs a break, and Leia’s busy with Resistance things. I’m on my own for now.”

“You’re never on your own, you know. You’re welcome to join me in the mornings. I can’t promise good company but…”

Rey smiles, and it’s as if a beam of sunlight shines from her face. “That’s very kind of you, Vice Admiral.”

Amilyn shakes her head. “No kind, just genuine.”

“Alright then. And I might take you up on it.”

The young woman is still beaming, and Amilyn feels herself smile in return. “If you do, I’ll have to get you to call me Amilyn.”

Laughter falls from Rey, sounding like freedom and hope and light, “Alright then. I just might.”

They walk together until the sun has semi-risen above Ajan Kloss, when the sounds of people stirring and going about business becomes too much for Amilyn and Rey to ignore with bare conversation. Although it’d been pleasant to share a moment with the young jedi, Amilyn can tell she has places to be. After all, she herself does too.

The rest of the day passes in a blur, really. There are things to be done, ships to prepare, messages to send, but all are done with ease, with very little focus. For almost all of it, Amilyn is slightly absent, allowing her thoughts to wander and her mind to breathe.

Before she knows it, it’s time for lunch. Obviously, she skips it, not having done enough to really feel hungry. She knows Leia’s going to be mad, but it’s just one lunch. Not enough to fall back into bad habits.

But she should probably have done a better job avoiding said woman if she  _ truly  _ wanted to skip lunch. She blames her cognitive absence.

“Amilyn.” Leia says when she sees her, unimpressed by the lack of a plate in her hand. “Food.”

“Just on my way to get it.”

“You’re an astoundingly bad liar.”

“Only to you.”

Leia sighs, knowing when she’s lost a battle (for now). Instead she grabs Amilyn’s arm and drags her towards a table near the back of the canteen. There’s a woman sitting there, looking altogether too large for anything on this planet. On  _ most  _ planets. Except maybe Kashyyk.

Amilyn already knows who it is, but that hadn’t prepared her for the grey-blue eyes and hooked nose. A stubborn jaw framing eyebrows drawn down gently in a frown.

“Amilyn, this is Phasma. We were wondering if you’d like to join us,” Leia says in a way that suggests she has absolutely no choice.

“Vice Admiral Holdo,” Phasma says, and her voice is more soothing that she would have thought, an unchanging, almost droid-like tone nevertheless. Honestly, it’s quite like her own, if a person weren’t to know her very well.

“Captain Phasma,” she says, not knowing what to call her; and just Phasma sounds plain rude. The moment she says it, she wishes she’d gone with just ‘Phasma’ because a shadow passes over her face, however briefly. Amilyn catches it.

“Phasma,” the woman says, extending a hand from her stiff body, and she takes it.

“Of course.” She sits down. “Amilyn,” she offers, and Phasma jerks her head once in agreement.

Leia nods at her gratefully. “Alright. Thank you for talking with me, Phasma, I know you prefer eating alone. But this is a matter we think needs addressing.”

“Is it about my conduct?” Phasma asks, but it doesn’t sound like one. Leia, of course, takes it in stride. 

“No, no. We’ve just discovered some things about you that are worth noting and developing upon.”

“Yes.”

Leia takes that as permission to continue. “Uh. Luke and I, and Rey,” she adds, almost as an afterthought, “have discovered that you’re force-sensitive. That is, you can feel the force. You can manipulate it, are attuned to it.” She sighs, muttering to herself, “Luke explains it much better than me.”

“Oh.” Phasma says. It’s as much emotion as Amilyn’s ever seen on her face, granted she’s only met the woman a few minutes ago. But Phasma’s eyes draw up in confusion, and distress, before again settling into impassiveness.

“Yes. It’s a lot to take in, I understand,” Leia says, and Amilyn watches her hand stop just as she’s about to lay it on the woman’s forearm, pulling away as she realises Phasma probably wouldn't appreciate it. 

Instead, she just sits there, staring at the wall behind them and Amilyn finds she wants to engage her more. She has no idea the things that might be running through the ex-Captain’s mind, but how she desperately wants to know. “How do you feel?” She tries, wanting the blonde to look her in the eyes.

When she does, Amilyn feels caught off guard by the intense searching reflected in a sharp, grey stare. She feels her breath catch and her heart race, she feels the itching need to  _ figure _ , to  _ solve _ .

“Nothing. Impartial.” She also seems disappointed at her own lack of reaction. Interesting. Amilyn wonders why.

“What would you rather feel?”

Phasma shrugs her shoulders. “Something.”

“But you made a face,” she says, and the blonde looks at her just shy of proper confusion, a small jerk of the head in the general direction of left, their gazes still locked. “Just now, you reacted by making a face.”

“I didn’t.” And it seems so genuine, Amilyn actually believes her. Maybe she has no control over what her face expresses, over which feelings show. It’s plausible.

Amilyn tilts her head, and for some reason, it makes Phasma break away from the intensity of it all, her eyes casting downwards briefly before settling on the wall again. Perhaps it’s strange being the one being calculated, instead of the one calculating. 

“Why are you here, then?” Phasma then asks, interrogating, and now Amilyn can tell that it’s a defensive reaction. But she guesses the question does make sense, has its merits.

“Why can’t I be?” She asks back, leaning forwards. There’s no physical movement from Phasma in return.

“There is no reason for you to be.”

“Perhaps there is, and you can’t see it.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Makes perfect sense to me.”

“Then your sense makes no proper sense in the function of a regular galaxy.”

“Who says I want to function in a regular galaxy? Societal norms are emphatically boring, anyway.”

Phasma turns to Leia, mouth tense in a frustrated line “Is she always so infuriating?”

Leia grins, unsure but amused. She seems confused by their interaction, a little how Amilyn feels herself—confused as to how they’ve gotten here. “Usually more so.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some realisations are reached, and some observations are made. Banter ensues.

“Well, that was interesting,” Leia drawls as they exit the cafeteria.

It really  _ had _ been interesting. When she’d brought Amilyn along for, to be honest with herself, moral support, she had not anticipated Amilyn would deliver her proverbial punches without pulling them. Completely shocked was what Leia had been before she remembered her  _ own  _ first meeting with the woman. And then it made more sense.

But at least Leia had been more prepared than Phasma. She doesn’t envy the ex-trooper for meeting with such a force of nature with no previous warning.

“It was,” Amilyn says, sounding pleased with herself. And that’s all Leia can get out of her for now, because there’s a secret smile on her face that tells Leia she isn’t going to be sharing any of her thoughts today. Honestly, she’s fine with that—any more unprompted lines from Amilyn and Leia might spontaneously combust.

Luke talks to Phasma the next day. Alone, of course, and this apparently makes Phasma much more pliant that she would be in a crowded cafeteria being questioned by two incredibly overbearing women. Her brother tells her that she’s willing to sit in on some of their force-training sessions with Finn, which is progress in itself.

He also tells her that she does not want to actively shape her force-sensitivity into force-power, that she does not want to lead the life of a Jedi—she is much too practical, much too broken, too inhumane for that—but she is against the idea of a Sith as well, much to Leia’s relief.

When Phasma comes to their training session, Finn is in the middle of some exercise Luke went through with Obi-wan, apparently on the Falcon. The boy wears solid goggles and a thick helmet, dulling all his senses but the force. 

Luke wants to build his trust in the force, something he struggles with. While Rey had trusted in the force immediately, letting hope and faith rule over her fear of pain, of hurt, Finn finds it harder to trust himself with the force, with a saber. He’s been through so much, and his mind takes its time to understand that failure doesn’t result in punishment, not anymore.

Maybe it’s the same for Phasma.

Amilyn had been invited to watch the training session. And she’d smiled and said, “maybe,” which Leia knows means almost certainly yes. She walks into the makeshift arena (surrounded with rocks and dirt, a flat clearing in the mess of Ajan Kloss) a little late, as Amilyn does. 

She almost seems to float (but that’s probably just because Leia knows her so well), the sun shines through her purple hair, reflects off the satin-like material of her customary purple dress.

Phasma willfully ignores her, focusing on fixing the bindings around her arms, though it’s obviously difficult with someone as striking as Amilyn. She thinks maybe Phasma still harbours some frustration towards her, maybe feels drawn towards her because of what had transpired that day.

Whatever it is, Leia sees her eyes follow Amilyn as she walks through to the outside of the clearing—the stands, if they’d even started to engineer something like that. 

Her old friend seems to notice this, also, and, as she does, immediately makes her way to the ex-trooper. The eye roll from Phasma is enough to make Leia grin to herself, thinking about the (reluctant) familiarity developing between the two so strangely fast.

“Phasma,” Amilyn says evenly, with a smile on her face—small and secret, always secret.

“Vice Admiral,” Phasma replies, just as evenly, if not more so.

“Amilyn,” she reminds.

“Yes.”

In a characteristically unpredictable move, Amilyn sits herself down on the bench besides Phasma, keeping her distance but next to her nevertheless. It’s strange to see Phasma tower over Amilyn, when Leia knows how tall she is compared to herself.

Phasma looks disgruntled, but she continues to rewrap her arm-bindings with new vigor.

Luke scoffs besides his sister, and Leia suppresses a grin. She hadn’t realised that he’d decided to take a break with Finn yet—usually it takes a little longer.

“What’s going on?” He asks, his usual oblivious self.

“They had an interesting introduction.”

“I can see that.”

“She’s intrigued.”

“I can see that, too.”

“I’m telling you what you’re asking, Luke,” Leia says, annoyed, and Luke only laughs.

* * *

It’s a few weeks before Phasma caves, but after watching that first training session, she’s more open and eventually allows Luke and Leia to train her properly. Not to become a Jedi, of course, but to have a grasp on her force abilities.

She’s surprisingly (maybe unsurprisingly, if Leia let herself think about it a bit more) easy to train, she follows instructions but takes charge of herself, listens to her gut but doesn’t lead with it. 

Her first lesson focuses, mostly, on theory and on technique.

“How come I don’t learn this?”

Finn joins them for it, because he’d thought it’d only be fair since Phasma came to so many of his own lessons. (Maybe he’d also wanted to rub it in his face how much better he was than her, which would probably explain his poorly-concealed frustration).

“You’re two different people,” Leia tells him.

He huffs, muttering something about not wanting to be a different person, slumping his shoulders down as he crosses his arms in a pout. Leia simply watches him, amused. Usually this behaviour would tick her off, but Finn doesn’t allow himself to be childish very often, and so she only smiles at it, quietly pleased at his progression.

“And you’re learning it now, anyway,” she adds, and Finn grudgingly nods, not having considered this.

“I’m excited to spar with her, though,” Finn grumbles, still a little annoyed, but thawing.

“Oh, yeah?” That’s Poe, always by Finn’s side.

“Yup.”

“No offence, buddy, but she’s a little bigger than you.”

“Well Leia won against Luke last week,” Finn says, a little frustrated but no less happy, “and  _ she’s _ smaller than  _ him _ .”

Poe squints his eyes as he grins. “You got a point. But c’mon, she’s  _ the General _ . ‘Course she’s gonna win.”

And, yeah, maybe that makes her feel a  _ little _ self-satisfied.

At that moment, Amilyn makes her entrance—late, as she always is for these things. Her purple hair flows behind her today, tied back in a different style that she usually does. Which is a little strange, but Leia’s come to expect the unexpected from her.

“Here comes Holdo,” Poe says, and shuffles a little on the bench, making space between himself and Leia for Amilyn to sit. As routine will have it, she takes the seat, with a little thank you as she does so.

It’s not apparent to begin with, but Leia quickly (though not as quick as she’d like) picks up on the small ways Phasma starts to enjoy Amilyn’s company. More than she enjoys anybody else’s anywho.

Interesting.

A glance towards Poe confirms that he thinks so, too. Hm. She’ll have to keep an eye on that one.

“You need to rein in your fly-boy,” Amilyn tells her a few weeks later.

Leia doesn’t even bat an eye. “What’d he do now?”

Amilyn sighs. “He thinks I can educate on a topic I have  _ very  _ little expertise in,” she says, assuming Leia knows what she’s vaguely talking about. Of course, knowing her friend for so long, Leia’s now fluent in Amilyn-speak. “Humanity. Humane-ness. The abstruse dilemma of the heart and how it motivates an entire evolution of society.”

“Ah,” she says, acting nonchalant even though she knows Amilyn sees right through her—benefits of knowing someone so long. “Is that so?” 

“ _ Leia _ ,” Amilyn groans, exasperated.

She tilts her head, giving her a look. “Poe’s got a point, you know. She seems to enjoy your company. And if she needs to learn how to be a person, I’d be grateful if it was from you.”

Narrowing her eyes, as she slumps down into a chair, she says, “But I do not appreciate Phasma being heaved into my room, in the middle of the night—”

“It was hardly the middle of the night.”

“So you knew!” She accuses, all serious.

Leia barely holds in her laughter. “No. I guessed.”

“Same thing.”

To be fair, she isn’t lying. Poe had come to her a week ago, telling—not asking—her about a plan he had in mind. He hadn’t told her what exactly, but he really hadn’t had to. Leia got the general gist.

_ “I got a plan. You might not like it but hear me out—” _

_ “Alright,” she’d said, giving him a nod of approval. _

_ “So essentially, you’ve probably noticed—” _

_ “You don’t have to explain it to me, Poe, I said alright.” _

_ Poe had looked at her in complete shock, almost in a way that’d told her he’d  _ wanted  _ her to ask, he’d wanted to prove it was as great an idea as he thought. “You don’t need the plan?” _

_ “You wanna run the risk of me hating it?” Leia asks, and he hangs his head a little, caught. _

_ “Oh.” He decided to white-lie it, instead, evidently. “Uh, guess not.” _

_ “Then no, I don’t need the full picture. Whatever consequences occur, you’ll deal with them. That’s what a leader does.” _

And that had been that.

She hadn’t  _ known _ that Poe was going to corral Phasma into Amilyn’s care—she’d had a feeling, but that doesn’t mean she’d known for sure. Nevertheless, Amilyn  _ looks _ at her like she knows.

“Besides,” Leia continues, “aren’t you the one who wanted to be friends? Get to know her?” Amilyn huffs, because she knows it’s true, and because (Leia knows) she would prefer the universe hand it to her, not some trigger-happy resistance pilot.

“Well I already promised Phasma more lessons, anyway. Don’t thank your Commander for that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, but Amilyn is pursing her lips in the way she does when she holds back a burst of laughter. “What are you planning to do with her?” Leia asks, because she’s curious, and because Amilyn isn’t the type to give information without being asked.

“Teach her,” she grumbles.

* * *

Leia blinks her eyes shut and suddenly has a vision, and it’s as if she’s seeing through a veil. When she looks a little into the distance, she notices she’s in a dessert. Tatooine. Movement catches her attention, and she watches a tall man lift a small blonde boy off of an animal of some sort, placing him playfully on the ground. The boy laughs, full of joy, full of life. Full of light.

Instinctively, Leia knows him.

Behind him, the man helps a woman down—small, brown haired and brown eyed—in much the same manner. But he is more careful with her, places his hands on her waist to lift her and carries her with caution, lets the woman know she’s safe. Once she lands on the sand floor, one hand grasps her shoulder, and the other is dragged forwards by the boy.

The man laughs, and she thinks that the expression is forgeign on his face. For some reason, she knows it, knows the grey-blue eyes and hooked nose. The sharp, squared jaw and the smooth forehead and the tall stature. 

She blinks suddenly, and it’s all gone. This time when she opens her eyes, she looks into the face of Phasma, with her grey-blue eyes and hooked nose. Her sharp, squared jaw and smooth forehead covered by choppy strands of blonde hair.  _ Of course, this is the answer. _

She needs to talk to Luke.

Her brother, as usual, is relatively easy to find. As a social recluse, there aren’t many places on a rebel base he can comfortably spend his time. Predictably, he’s by the old Ajan Kloss caves, surrounded by the ruins and rubble of war, sitting cross-legged on the floor.

Leia thinks that this is why his clothes seem to be so dirty all the time.

“Hey, I need to tell you something!” She yells at him, waking him from his meditation.

“Well, hello to you too, Leia.”

“You knew I was coming,” she says, defiant.

He nods, getting up from the floor, his joints cracking a little. “I did.”

She places herself onto a slightly comfortable looking rock, pleased that Luke follows her lead and sits next to her. “So did you get the vision too?” By Luke’s confused grunt, she’s guessing the answer is no. “From our father, I’m certain. I wasn’t sure why at first, but now I know the reason.”

Her brother gives her a look, searching for an answer before she can say it. She’s happy to say that he has no idea what she’s talking about. “What is it Leia?”

“You remember,” she starts, not really knowing where she’s going with this. “You remember how we’d been trying to figure out Phasma’s lineage, where her force-sensitivity came from. The roots of it all.”

Luke nods. He’d been scavenging through hundreds of archives and writings of Jedi and their lineage, because he refuses to believe that there could be a random force-sensitive being out of nowhere, but he couldn’t for the life of him find anything relating to the planet Parnassos. “Yeah.”

“That’s what he sent me in the vision: it’s the answer. She’s a Jinn, Luke.” Leia says, uncertain of the name before it fell from her lips.  _ Thank you, Father _ . “And a Skywalker too, if I’m right.”

“A Jinn?” Luke says, no doubt recognising the name from the numbers of scriptures he spends so much of his time with, especially the ones they’d retrieved on Gatalenta. “As in  _ Qui-Gon _ Jinn?”

“Yes.”

“ _ And  _ a Skywalker?” He asks, his voice raising incredulously. “That can’t be true!”

“It is, I’d swear it.”

Another groan falls from his lips as he lets his head fall back onto the rocky cave wall. Ever the dramatic. “As if four Skywalkers wasn’t enough. We just  _ needed  _ another one!”

Leia laughs. “When did you become old and bitter?”

“When you get old, you get old Leia. At least  _ I  _ understand  _ that _ .”

The rest of the day is spent thinking about how to tell her. It’s not an easy pill to swallow, it’s true, but at least Phasma isn’t finding out her father happens to be the very sith lord she’s spent half a decade trying to fight.

Not that Leia’s comparing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay! kudos + comments keep me going <3

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! don't forget to leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed!


End file.
